


The turn of the millennium

by AutomatonAmI



Category: The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August - Claire North
Genre: Harry and Vincent but they're millennials, Modern Era, No beta we get reborn like men, Shut up I need some wholesome content so I'll create it myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutomatonAmI/pseuds/AutomatonAmI
Summary: Millennials AUI'm not good at summarizing and I only wrote one chapter so farGuess I'll update this later
Kudos: 2





	1. Everything starts anew

My name is Harry August. I was born January 1st 1969, in a dodgy gas station only a couple miles away from the home of my parents. As a baby I was adopted by a maid and her husband, my dad being both an esteemed and married man who wanted to keep his name clean. In my first life I grew up being none the wiser, a child to a poor English couple who made it despite the odds. A lovely story, if it ended there.

My story did not end there. It is still going, and I'm not certain it will ever end.

In my second life I was sent to a therapist as a young child, under suspicion I was developing schizophrenia or a similar condition. My parents didn't have much money, so my therapist was a cranky old man that did his best to avoid releasing his frustrations with life onto me. Many times he failed. I was one again dead, this time before the age of 12.

In my life cycles since, I dipped my toes in all manners of doing. I joined the army a few times to be sent to Yugoslavia to fight in the Kosovo war. In a couple life cycles, after discovering the identity of my biological father, I managed to get a job as an accountant for the Hulne household. I attempted to create some connection with Roy Hulne, thinking a biological proximity would make him a good father. He was a despicable man who used his status in the British elite to disrespect everyone around him. After learning about his nature, thinking we have any similarities sent a shiver of dread down my spine. I learned the secrets of spirituality, partly in search for answers and partly because it was the hip new thing to do at the time. I lived. I lived once more, and again, and again. I did my best to convince myself all of this had meaning, had consequences. With these thoughts tormenting me, I turned to science.

In a large majority of my lives I ended up working in academia. It started as a search for understanding my peculiar condition, then my love for knowledge and teaching, and finally Vincent.

In my sixth life I was working as a tutor at cambridge, the only thing stopping me from being a professor is my young age. It was my second round as an academic, so I was already familiar with the intricate social rules of higher studies. I was ready for almost any situation on campus grounds. I was _not_ prepared for a grad student storming into my office and demanding a debate.

"Dr August," he said, "I wish to discuss the multiverse."

We did have quite an interesting discussion, after I managed to shake away my surprise and collect my thoughts, during which he insulted my research multiple times and almost punched me once.

We agreed to meet for coffee that weekend


	2. Schrodinger's coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Vincent go out for coffee and discuss possible projects

"This coffee should not be mathematically possible." Vincent said as we sat down at the local Starbucks.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying it's really bad and not worth the money."

"You're the one that wanted to come here!" I shot a look to the baristas behind the counter, hoping they didn't hear Vincent's comment. They didn't seem to, but Vincent definitely noticed me looking away.

"Oh, don't be paranoid. Everyone hates Starbucks. I wanted to come here because it's close to my apartment and I'm lazy." He sipped his frappuccino. "Also, as much as I hate to admit it, I can't drink coffee without milk and sugar. How the hell do you drink that?"

"I haven't properly slept since 1997." I took a sip from my black coffee. I didn't truly enjoy it, it was a habit born out of necessity. "Anyway. You have more topics to discuss? Hopefully this time you'd be less harsh on my life's work."

"But being harsh on your life's work is so fun!" Vincent pouted at me jokingly and started laughing. "No, I wanted to discuss a... theoretical project I had in mind."

"A _theoretical_ project?"

"Theoretical in the sense that no one would fund the damn thing."

"Ah, I see." I chuckled. "The only thing stopping a brilliant mind such as yours."

"I know, right? My brilliance is just... overbearing..." he rested his hand against his forehead, ridiculous theatrics that already were a joke a long time ago.

Over the next hour and a half he explained to me in detail the plans for a machine he named 'the quantum mirror'. Its function is to predict possibly anything from the properties of a single atom. Vincent claimed it could answer all of humanity's greatest questions.

"My question is how are you going to pay for all of these." I looked down at our table, covered in two empty black coffee cups and five empty frappuccinos.

"Well, Harry dear, how about you consider this your investment in my research?" He gave me a shy smile that gave away more than his sarcastic attitude.

"Jesus christ, fine. But I'm not going to fuel your sugar addiction anymore after this."

"Ah, that's ok." He grabbed his stuff and headed to the exit. "You're sweet enough for me."

The coins stumbled in my hands as I paid. I had to eat pasta fir the rest of the week.


	3. A broken nose, a sign of true friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't just not include Vincent punching Harry

Over the next few months, Vincent and I made a habit of meeting up for coffee and hypothetical discussions at the local Starbucks. He always complained about the bad coffee, I always complained about having to pay for his ridiculous drinks. It was a comfortable routine and we both enjoyed the company more than the discussions themselves. This routine lasted for about a year and a half, and ended quite poorly. 

We were talking about the possibility of using Vincent's machine, the quantum mirror, as a way to predict the future.

"You know, it could be very useful in the medical field. Being able to tell when and where infections spread," Vincent said nonchalantly.

"But you would still need data to base the model on, right?"

"No, that's the thing! It's... it can just predict it, based on quantum theory. Think how useful that could have been if we had it during the Spanish flu, or with sars!"

"During what?" Of course I knew, but I couldn't let him know that.

"The Spanish flu."

"No, the other thing," I saw realization bloom on his face. I decided to take a leap of faith. "Vincent, the sars outbreak starts six months from now."

Vincent looked away, panicked. "Harry, I..."

I smiled softly, trying to calm him down. "You're a kalachakra. It's ok, so am I."

He punched me, and I only remember people shouting and darkness.

* * *

I woke up at the local emergency room with a broken nose, waiting for treatment. Vincent sat next to me.

"I'm sorry. I panicked." He said after a long silence. 

"What life are you on?"

"What?"

"What life are you on? How many times have you done this before?"

"Oh. It's my fourth life."

"You're doing so well! I'm on my sixth." I touched my nose and immediately regretted it, the pain jolting through me. 

"Aren't you mad?"

"Of course I am, but I also died in Yugoslavia once, so I got my priorities." I chuckled. "Why are you here?"

"I like our discussions."

"Thank you. Is that why you punched me in the middle of one? I didn't even get to finish my coffee."

"I like having the company. You understand those topics more than anyone else I talked to, so I felt like we were really alike. But then I... said what I said, like a moron, and you said you're like that too, and... I guess it scared me. Being so similar to someone."

"We're not that much alike. For example, I think if I took one sip from one of your whipped cream drinks I would have to vomit."

Vincent smiled despite himself. "Now you're just being rude."

A nurse called my name, and I stood up hesitantly. "You better be here when I come back. I'll look even more ridiculous walking home alone with bandages on my head."

"Fine." He smiled the way he always did when he ment more than what he said.

When I came back, bandages around my head and pain throbbing in my skull, he waited with a black coffee.


	4. In another life

Slowly we settled into a new, quiet routine. We still met for coffee and quantum philosophy every now and again, but far less frequently, and even when we did it was duller. I forgave Vincent quickly. He could not forgive himself.

I decided to bring that up one afternoon, after a particularly long silence. "You seem to have lost the wind in your sails, Vince."

He sighed, frustrated. "Why are you like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Kind. Soft? You and your nicknames and paying for the coffee and..."

"I forgave you months ago. You know, in the... in the grand scheme of this, of our lives, it's nothing. And my nose is fine!" I smiled, hoping to cheer him up, even subconsciously.

"I know. Still, I can't forgive myself."

"Vincent..." he wouldn't meet my gaze.

"You're the only person I know who is..." he lowered his voice. "You know. Like this. As far as I know we could be the only ones. And I can't let myself impulsively hurt you like that."

"Vincent, you're being dramatic-"

I don't think he heard me as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

The next time I met Vincent was two lives later. I was attending a TED conference, back again at Oxford, and browsing through the day's event schedule there he was - scheduled at noon to give a talk about quantum physics and computing.

I spent the day distracted, preoccupied by the chance of meeting him again. I have listened to the talks given and politely clapped as I promptly forgot everything when the people left the stage.

At noon he got on stage. He looked exactly as I remembered him, and I sat impatiently, waiting for a chance to chat with him. He talked about quantum theory, machine learning and engineering, nothing that was new to me, but he was charming in his odd way, as usual. I clapped as he got off the stage and struggled against the crowd as everyone left for lunch.

I caught him at the front row, chatting with a few of the other speakers. "Vincent!"

He turned to me and the smug smile on his face immediately disappeared. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"I was sent from the university to review the event. Thought it would be nice to greet an old friend," I smiled weakly, hoping for a positive response.

"Yes, I... give me a moment," he turned to his conversation partners. "I apologize, I must leave. I'll see you after lunch."

We walked together to the event's cafeteria. Vincent's eyes darted around, looking at everything except me. "You seem awfully nervous."

He paused. "Yeah, I haven't met you in 160 years."

"I still forgive you."

"I know," he said with a sigh and finally smiled at me. I missed him, and seeing him acknowledge me after so long was almost overwhelming.

* * *

"So, about your talk," I said over our desserts. "Quantum computers? A bit far ahead if I do say so myself."

"I know, but I'm working towards my big project."

"Your quantum mirror? The whole seeing the future, God complex thing?"

He chuckled. "If you want to call it that, yes. If I introduce the concept now who knows the progress we'll get with the extra time."

"But you won't live to see the product of the research."

"Perhaps in another life." He said, aspirations in his eyes.

I did not suspect a thing.


	5. A promise fulfilled

In another life, perhaps, what a cliche. For us, the kalachakra, those who live in loops, it is an awkward promise.  
In another life, maybe.

Vincent didn't make promises lightly.

* * *

I kept following Vincent's work from afar, reading his published papers and occasionally dropping in to watch him talk at another conference. It still wasn't the same as it has been lives before, but it felt like a spark of hope that it will be, unlikely as it seemed. He fascinated me.

I remembered the awkward student I knew so long ago, ranting and debating completely hypothetical concepts, on the verge between genius and fool. That was Vincent on a very personal scale, one that perhaps only I knew him on. I enjoyed watching him create a public persona, yet it was tinted by the bittersweet memories of past lives.

I chose to believe it was all a facade, a false confidence to draw in fellow scientists and potential investors. It could have been a true sense of mania, the praise from other academics giving Vincent a final push into madness.  
I dreaded that option being true, and known how likely it was.

* * *

In another life, promises have been acted upon.

New technology, unimaginable before, was being released at a faster and faster rate. The planet was dying, and life has never been better before.

* * *

In another life, Vincent finally contacted me again. On an otherwise unremarkable day I received an email from him:

" _Dear Harry,_

_How are you doing? I know we haven't talked in a criminally long time, and I take full responsibility. You know I always had the tendency to be a bit of a petty idiot._

_I'm working on new and very exciting practical research in Russia, I'm getting more results than ever before._

_You're the only one who could understand my ideas, my research. I need you on this Harry, you're the most brilliant person I know._

_Hoping to hear from you,_  
 _Vincent._ "

I stared at my phone, reading the email over and over again. 

I packed a bag.


End file.
